


chasing your starlight

by shoutz



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Soulmate Adjacent, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutz/pseuds/shoutz
Summary: After a thousand thousand lifetimes, the two celestial bodies orbiting each other finally collide.The Warrior of Light looks down and sure enough, there it is: a small, pearlescent earring with no pair sitting unassumingly at the edge of the countertop. The same earring that has followed the Warrior of Light for as long as she can remember. No matter how many times she misplaces it, no matter how many times she leaves it behind, it somehow finds its way back— to itsrightful owner,perhaps, but she cannot for the life of her remember when she came to own such a thing.Each time it came back to her was met with a strange feeling — one of being watched, of being known, and perhaps most strangely, of beingwanted.Normally, she has not the time nor the patience for such frivolity. But…She picks up the earring, ignoring the small flood of warmth that fills her chest as she does so. “I don’t see why not. It seems to find me no matter what I do with it.” A small smile finds her lips. “Might as well.”
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV - Emet-Selch x WoL Recommendations





	chasing your starlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TenkeyLess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenkeyLess/gifts).



> another fic for the still-lovely Wist!! thank u for letting me play with this idea it was so incredibly fun! no spoilers! pretend canon doesn't exist and this will make COMPLETE sense i promise

The Warrior of Light has never been one for formality. In all her years of ending wars and forging alliances, she has seen more than her fair share of balls and banquets. One such event was held to commemorate the end of the Dragonsong War, for example. Empty gatherings, spectacles meant more for those uninvited than those in attendance.

One such gathering is planned for tonight, to celebrate one signed treaty or another. It makes no real matter to the Warrior of Light, who is attending more for show than any actual desire to mingle with nobility who see her more as a trophy to be won than a person. And so it is with reluctance that she readies herself in a subtle, elegant gown in the privacy of her chambers.

“Isn’t this so exciting? I love dressing up for events like these.”

Well, relative privacy. Tataru had insisted they prepare together for tonight’s event since they had planned to attend together.

“I do quite enjoy the food,” the Warrior of Light responds. “And I don’t get many chances to dress so extravagantly.”

Tataru smiles from her seat in front of the vanity, adjusting her hair just so. “That’s the spirit! Plus the food is always so impressive. I hope they have those delicious lemon pastries that they had last time.”

“Those were quite good. The Fortemps family brought a delightful tea once but I haven’t seen it since. Do you know if Lord Edmont will be in attendance tonight?”

Tataru shrugs. “I hope so. He always has the most fascinating stories! And it’s been so long since we’ve had word of the Ishgardian gossip. Do you think Artoirel ever—” Tataru cuts herself off. The Warrior of Light looks over to see her eyes fixed on the corner of the other vanity. “You’re wearing that earring again?”

The Warrior of Light looks down and sure enough, there it is: a small, pearlescent earring with no pair sitting unassumingly at the edge of the countertop. The same earring that has followed the Warrior of Light for as long as she can remember. No matter how many times she misplaces it, no matter how many times she leaves it behind, it somehow finds its way back— to its  _ rightful owner, _ perhaps, but she cannot for the life of her remember when she came to own such a thing.

Each time it came back to her was met with a strange feeling — one of being watched, of being known, and perhaps most strangely, of being  _ wanted. _

Normally, she has not the time nor the patience for such frivolity. But…

She picks up the earring, ignoring the small flood of warmth that fills her chest as she does so. “I don’t see why not. It seems to find me no matter what I do with it.” A small smile finds her lips. “Might as well.”

Tataru shrugs, turns back to her mirror to put the finishing touches on her elegant updo. “At least it matches your dress somewhat. I worked hard on it and would not see it brought low by a clashing accessory.”

The Warrior of Light laughs, fastening the back of the earring in place. The base is a rhomboid shape wrought in a dull bronze metal, with a small pearl teardrop dangling from the end. A simple design, yet beautiful. Unassuming. It nestles beautifully in her hair to provide an elegant charm to the rest of her ensemble.

They chat until the afternoon turns to evening, Tataru fussing periodically with both of their gowns and assuring they look up to her remarkably high standards. Eventually the other Scions finish their preparations and come to mingle beforehand, sharing stories of Alphinaud’s ability to tie a tie among other idle happenings. Enough time passes to render them appropriately late, and they depart for the banquet proper.

The hall is lavishly decorated and the food spread before them is divine — enough so that both Alisaie and Alphinaud depart the group to partake before they’ve even taken stock of the other attendees. Eventually the other Scions wander off, leaving the Warrior of Light alone on the outskirts of the throng.

Groups have sequestered themselves into small conversational circles. A low hum of idle chatter buzzes through the air, loud yet obscuring enough to erase any individual specifics from reaching idle ears. All are dressed impeccably, flowing silk and fine jewels far in excess. For a brief moment, the Warrior of Light regrets not wearing something more ostentatious. Perhaps the earring was a mistake after all.

She sighs.

“Not quite your crowd, hero?”

She jumps and turns at the voice as it sounds from just over her shoulder, velvet and warm and wholly unfamiliar. The man behind the voice stands out from the crowd in more ways than one — the most obvious of these being the Garlean third eye placed in the center of his forehead. The rest of his visage is similarly striking: dark auburn hair cut only by a white streak at the front, piercing golden eyes that watch her with keen interest, extravagant garb meant more for a throne room than a banquet.

His lips turn up into a smirk as she regards him. “So pleased to make your acquaintance. You may call me Emet-Selch.” She opens her mouth to protest but he interrupts before she can ask, “Think of it as a title of sorts.”

She eyes him warily, her distrust paired with intrigue like cheese and wine. “Presumptive of you to think I would  _ call _ you at all, Emet-Selch.”

His smirk widens as he huffs a laugh. “Ah, all in due time.” A song emerges to fill the bustling hall, and people start pairing themselves off to take advantage. “Oh, but where are my manners?” He bows low, one gloved hand outstretched towards her. Beckoning. “Might I have this dance?”

Instinct tells her to— to  _ take _ the hand, instead of slapping it away, which comes as quite the shock. Even despite her distrust, a strange allure draws her towards him. Moth, to flame. Though her surprise affords her a moment to assess, to contemplate. She looks at the proffered hand, at the man behind it.

“You’re a very strange man, Emet-Selch.” For barely a breath, his eyes flash with disappointment,  _ disbelief, _ darting up to— her ear? The earring? But it all happens in less than a second; before he can object, she continues, “A very strange, convincing man.”

She takes the hand. It stills, stunned for a moment, but it passes almost as quickly as it had manifested as Emet-Selch places a chaste, polite kiss to her knuckle. Without further comment, he leads her out to join the rest of the dancing couples.

“Why are you here, Emet-Selch?” she asks as they begin their dance. One hand still grasps the one she had offered, while the other rests just below her rib cage, warm and guiding. “What business have you so far from the Garlean Empire?”

“Purely politics,” he says with no small amount of nonchalance, “though I must say I find myself quite pleased with the company I've found.”

The Warrior of Light does her utmost to dispel the flush of heat at his compliment. Was it even a compliment? With Emet-Selch pressed so close, with the warmth of him, the feel of him beneath her hands upon his own and his shoulders as they dance — though muddled by the clothes which separate them — sets her very soul singing. Compliment or no, the draw she feels towards him is enchanting. Almost instinctual.

In the pause of her thoughts, he simply waits for a response, leading them gracefully across the floor.

“Ahem. Well.” She has to look away from those golden eyes, from what she sees in them. From what she wants to see in them.  _ What is she thinking? _ “A pleasant surprise, I’m sure, to depart for business and find pleasure alongside it.”

He grins, leaning closer as his voice lowers to a rolling murmur. “Of course, my dear. And better still to find  _ you _ in particular.” She meets his gaze once more and his grin widens. She opens her mouth to speak but he clarifies, “You have made quite a name for yourself in the days since the Calamity. One cannot help but pay attention. And…” The hand guiding her torso raises to— to gently caress her ear, the earring it bears. She clamps her teeth shut against a shudder. “And  _ this…” _

Her breath catches in her lungs. She stumbles a step, another, until Emet-Selch smoothly leads them both away from the other waltzing couples. She gazes up at him, in a mix of confusion and awe. She goes to speak but once more he interrupts.

“We’d best discuss where prying ears will not hear. I will find you when tonight's events have come to a close.”

With that, Emet-Selch turns and disappears into the crowd— but as he does her eyes catch on the glimmer of dull metal, the shine of a pearl teardrop, hanging from an ear lobe.

* * *

The butterflies don’t leave her nervous, fluttering stomach even after she leaves the ball. Though she leaves alone, early, after bidding her companions farewell. She had been unable to forget Emet-Selch in favor of enjoying the rest of the night, and understandably so. How could she possibly focus on the minutiae of idle gossip when she knows what awaits her at the end of the night?

Granted, she  _ doesn’t _ know, not truly. Not exactly. But she knows  _ who _ awaits her, and that in itself is enough to quicken her pace towards the inn.

She turns a sharp corner and runs into a wall— but it is far too soft to be stone. She mumbles apologies as she tries to back away from whomever she had bumped into, but two warm hands hold her close.

“No need to apologize, my dear.” she looks up and processes the voice, the man holding her even still. “Not to me.”

“Emet-Selch…”

He smiles down at her, shifting over to her side. He threads his arm through her own and starts towards the street. “Shall we walk? The stars are so exquisite tonight, it would be a shame to neglect them.”

She looks upwards and he is absolutely right. With the lights of the city dimmed for the night they shine spectacularly upon the world below, a blank canvas dotted by a thousand thousand tiny lights. It takes her breath away for just a moment, as she regards them. When she looks back to Emet-Selch she finds those golden eyes locked onto her, instead of the stars, and it sends a heat rushing to her cheeks.

“They are,” she says instead, directing her focus in front of her that she might not trip over her own feet again. “But I believe you owe me an explanation. Or two.”

He chuckles. “You are right. You have my sincerest apologies. I have been horribly,  _ insufferably _ vague. But, to make amends, I am willing to answer any questions you may have.”

The Warrior of Light regards him a moment, regards the endless and growing list of questions she’s been accruing since he left the party.

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” he counters, but the look she gives in return convinces him to continue. “You’re beautiful. Intelligent. Powerful.”

“There are plenty of people who fit that description. Be more specific.”

Emet-Selch remains silent for a few moments, meandering to a stop in a small clearing away from any buildings or prying ears. “The earring.”

She pauses, reaches up to touch the earring where it rests on her ear.

“Several years ago — an uncountably long time ago — I enchanted this pair of earrings,” he says, removing the earring from his own lobe. “I enchanted them such that one would remain with me, and the other would remain with my love. From that moment until my last.”

The Warrior of Light blinks, turns to regard him. “But I’m not— we’ve never… I don’t know you. I’ve never met you before— I feel I would have remembered you.”

“This was  _ eons _ ago,” he clarifies, “So long ago that I would not expect you to remember such a thing happening. Nor do I expect you to be the same person you were all those years ago.” He looks so far away, so sad, for barely the span of a breath. “I do not think I am either. But there is something to be said that my earring, which was enchanted to find my love no matter what happened to it, found  _ you.” _

He turns to regard her then, silhouetted by the starry night sky as his backdrop. His eyes shine brighter than any star behind him could hope to shine. “And I think that’s worth pursuing…”

Emet-Selch extends a hand towards her, once more, just as he had done before their dance. It had been a weighted gesture then, the promise of something, the promise of a beginning, and it still bears with it an undeniable weight of another undeniable beginning. But this beginning heralds so much more… 

“If you so desire.”

Once more, even beneath that weight, with a warmth in her chest and a fluttering, nervous excitement in her gut, the Warrior of Light takes the hand.

**Author's Note:**

> shadowbringers: the power of love is very destructive  
> me: haha and then what? ;)
> 
> hello i'm [@shoutzwastaken](http://twitter.com/shoutzwastaken)
> 
> and we have a [book club](https://discord.gg/X6NJJAb)


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